


Farewell Wanderlust

by That_One_Curly_Haired_Fangirl



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Dramatic Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Getting Together, M/M, Misunderstandings, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, The Amazing Devil references, Viscount Jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24395668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_One_Curly_Haired_Fangirl/pseuds/That_One_Curly_Haired_Fangirl
Summary: It's been two years since the dragon hunt, and no one on the continent has seen Jaskier in nearly as long.While on a contract in Redania, Geralt is haunted by reminders of the bard. Can he figure out what's happening, and maybe get a second chance with Jaskier?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 146
Kudos: 403





	1. The Heartache (that aches far too much to be shunned)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! For whatever reason The Witcher has become my main obsession during this lockdown, so now I have three fics mostly written. This was technically the last I started but it's the first to finish, so I figured I'd start posting; updates might be daily since I have it basically done. I've only watched the show and picked up some things through fandom osmosis; any opinions on if the books and games are worth it? I've heard the characters are all a little different.
> 
> All chapter titles and the fic title itself are taken from the song Farewell Wanderlust, which is possibly my favorite song from the new album by The Amazing Devil, Joey Batey's band (and that's saying something; the whole album is excellent). If you haven't listened to them yet, I'd highly recommend it.

Jaskier had disappeared. It had been almost two years since the dragon hunt where Geralt had last seen him and said those regrettable things; since then Geralt had found his child surprise and managed to get her safely away from Nilfgaard. He’d also reunited with Yennefer; their relationship was not how it had been, but she took an interest in Ciri, which the girl reciprocated. So currently Ciri was training with Vesemir and Yennefer in Kaer Morhen. Geralt knew they were safe. But Jaskier…

They’d always separated and come back together. Sometimes for longer than other times, but they always seemed to find each other eventually. Despite his early annoyance with the bard, Jaskier had become something of a constant for Geralt.

Except for the last two years. It was the longest they’d gone without seeing each other since they’d met. But it was worse than that; the bard Jaskier had not been seen anywhere on the Continent for nearly those full two years as well. But there were no stories of his death; Geralt would have taken note of those, even with how…occupied he had been. Jaskier had just somehow vanished.

That wasn’t why Geralt had left Kaer Morhen, of course. Someone needed to continue to keep people safe from monsters, and having someone in the outside world could help keep them updated on the war with Nilfgaard. If Geralt found himself looking for bright doublets and listening for lute music as much as he was alert for soldiers, no one had to know.

Currently, Geralt was in some small area of Redania he hadn’t been in much before: Lettenhove. There was apparently a problem with something unknown attacking people from the nearby towns. Surprisingly, the local nobles themselves had called for him, if the sum offered was to be believed.

Geralt was used to getting stares as he entered any town, even if this felt…different, in a way he couldn’t place. But no one tried to attack him or prevent him from going to the castle he could see looming on the horizon, so Geralt supposed they must not be hostile. He stayed atop Roach until he reached the castle, where he dismounted at the gates.

“Witcher!” He saw a servant approach; she seemed to be expecting him. Perhaps word traveled through the town already. “Are you here about the contract?”

“Yes.” He approached her, pausing with Roach’s reigns. “Who should I speak to?”

“Follow me.” She turned. “I’ll show you to the stables first.”

He nodded, grateful to be able to care for Roach. They’d been traveling a while before arriving, so she could benefit from the rest. Geralt crossed the courtyard with the servant, pausing a moment at he felt as if someone was watching him. When he looked around (subtly, so as to not alert any potential threats), all he saw was movement out of the corner of his eye in an upper window of the castle. Because his reception hadn’t been hostile, Geralt decided to take note of it but not pursue it. Best to finish the job, collect the coin, then get back to traveling.

Once they were out of the stables, the servant girl began to chatter. “There’s been some surprise that they called for a witcher.”

“Oh?” Geralt had seen many nobles indifferent to their people’s suffering, but he didn’t want to voice that expectation in their castle. “Why’s that?”

“There seemed to be some disagreement between the Viscount and Viscountess over it.” She leaned in conspiratorially, his hearing easily picking up her whispers. “They both seemed concerned about the deaths, but the Viscount has an aversion to witchers they say. Doesn’t even let any bard that comes through play those songs about you within the castle walls.”

“Hmm.” Despite Jaskier’s efforts, those attitudes still remained. But Geralt tried not to think of the bard; he needed to focus.

“Here we are.” The servant stopped outside a door, pushing it open. “Ma’am? The witcher is here.”

Geralt entered what appeared to be a study; a woman in an elegant gray gown stood from behind a desk. “Geralt of Rivia.”

He nodded, unsure how else to respond, or why her pulse seemed to pick up slightly at the sight of him. She showed no other signs of fear, but if her husband feared him it was possible she would be nervous.

Still, she seemed outwardly confident as she came around the desk. “I’m Madeleine Pankratz, Viscountess of Lettenhove. Thank you for coming.” She gestured to a chair across from the desk. “Please, take a seat.”

Not wanting to do anything to set her further on edge, especially if others may be hostile, Geralt sat. “So what is your current problem?”

The Viscountess sat behind her desk with a sigh. “There’s been a series of disappearances. All near the woods outside town.”

Trying to be as patient and nonthreatening as possible, Geralt nodded. “Any patterns or noticeable details?”

“It always happens near the full moon.” She tucked a lock of wavy brown hair behind her ear; something about her was familiar in a way Geralt couldn’t place. “We haven’t been able to recover much from the people who have disappeared; the remains we find…” She sighed. “There wasn’t much.”

Geralt nodded. “The full moon is in two day’s time.”

“So you can understand our urgency in calling for a witcher.” She looked at him, her blue eyes earnest. “Will you help us?”

“Yes.” Geralt moved to stand. “I’ll go to the woods tonight. Let me gather my things.”

“That won’t be necessary; we have spare rooms in the castle.” She stood.

Geralt stood as well, unsure whether accepting or refusing their hospitality would bring more ire. “I have no problems staying elsewhere.”

“Consider the room and board part of your payment; we are grateful to have you here, Geralt of Rivia.” She seemed sincere, although it felt like there was something he was missing.

“Very well.” He followed her as she crossed the room.

The same servant girl from before was at the door; Geralt wondered if she was listening in.

“Francieska.” The Viscountess addressed the girl. “Show the witcher to the open rooms in the East Wing. They should be prepared.”

Francieska, apparently, nodded and turned to Geralt. “Follow me.”

She seemed to be around Ciri’s age; Geralt wondered how things were progressing at Kaer Morhen. In his distraction as he followed the servant girl, there was a moment where he swore he smelled a familiar scent, one he hadn’t smelled since a mountain top two years ago, when it had spiked with sorrow before disappearing altogether.

But that was impossible. Geralt stopped with Francieska outside a door, and she pushed it open. “Your quarters; let us know if you need anything. We’ll be doing dinner this evening and you can join us.”

She was gone before Geralt could respond; he wondered if her employers knew she’d extended the offer. He supposed the Viscountess had offered him food, but something about this place still set him… on edge. But he had a job to focus on. He set down his pack in the room, taking a moment to search it just to ease his suspicions. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, Geralt left to go to the stables to tend to Roach. That, if anything, should help soothe him.


	2. The tales that the guests will applaud (and believe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok first of all, I was not expecting this much response? You're all amazing! I am done with this fic so updates will be daily from here on out.

Geralt wore his armor to dinner that night; it was in a small hall fitting for a small territory, and he ended up being led to a table with the Viscountess.

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Not usual dinner attire, I would hope.”

“Witchers must always be prepared.” He took a seat near her. “Additionally, I plan to go into the woods after this. Best to get familiar with the territory before the full moon.”

“Very well.” She shifted, settling more into her seat. “I’ll enjoy your company while I have it.”

Another unusual comment said innocuously. “Will the Viscount be joining us?”

“No.” There was a flash of something too quick to read across her face before she schooled her demeanor. “The Viscount is rather reclusive, I’m afraid.”

“Hmm.” Geralt helped himself to the food at the table after seeing the Viscountess and her limited guests do the same. Best not to waste free food when offered.

“I’m more interested in you.” She leaned forward, towards him. “We don’t get much excitement in this area, but I’m sure you’ve seen your share.”

“My story has already been told more eloquently than I can tell it, courtesy of the bard Jaskier.” Geralt decided to take the opportunity while he had it. “Although I’ve heard that those stories don’t reach the castle.”

“Yes.” There was something, discomfort perhaps, in the way she shifted and her heart rate changed. “Not everyone here enjoys hearings tales of the White Wolf.”

“Hmm.” Geralt looked away from her, taking in the castle at large. He’d eaten enough; maybe leaving the castle would be best. “I should go to the forest.”

“Very well.” She did not stand to dismiss him, as he knew some would. “Feel free to request any provisions you may need from us.”

He nodded in understanding before leaving.

\-----

The forest was quiet; Geralt looked for signs of the werewolf he suspected was taking people. With the moon not yet full, he was unlikely to encounter it. The initial rumors had said that the attacks had only been happening in the past few months, only taking a few people each month. Geralt spent hours searching, but found nothing of note. 

But he found something noteworthy later on instead. Geralt paused as he neared the castle; his enhanced hearing noticing something he would have missed otherwise.

It sounded like faint singing. And not any signing; a familiar voice. 

A voice he hadn’t heard in two years. Not since the dragon hunt… 

It was in the same wing of the castle as where Geralt was staying; another odd occurrence. It couldn’t truly be Jaskier, could it? What would he be doing here? 

By the time Geralt reached the East Wing to investigate further, the singing had stopped. Geralt almost wondered if he had imagined it, like he had with the fleeting scent earlier. He circled back through the forest, coming to the main gate of the castle once more.

\-----

The next day, Geralt joined Viscountess for the midday meal. “I suspect you have a werewolf.”

She nodded, as if not surprised. “Some of our court are familiar with the stories of monsters and suspected the same. It’s why we called for you.”

She was still watching him with unplaceable interest; Geralt was unsure what her intentions were. He didn’t trust it. “Should I speak with them to gather more information?”

“That shouldn’t be necessary.” Her word were almost too quick. “Your expertise likely far outweighs theirs.”

“Hmm.” Geralt decided to concentrate on his food instead. Still we wondered if it was intentional that she’d said “you” instead of saying they’d called for a witcher. When he’d heard of the contract it hadn’t been that specific, and yet…

Every instinct of his suggested there was something happening here beyond what Geralt had been told. But what was it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any theories on what's going on yet?


	3. Take up arms (take my hand)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I continue to be amazed by all the response this is getting, so thank you to all the incredible people reading and engaging with this!
> 
> Heads up that there is some mild violence this chapter; Geralt's gotta kill monsters at some point. It's not too graphic but I figured I'd let you know. Anyways, enjoy!

The next day and a half passed much in the same way as the first. Geralt staked out the woods by night and attempted to understand what was happening in the castle by day. His daytime pursuits yielded far less than his nighttime ones, although the Viscountess continued to attempt to get information from him, trying to start conversations or hear stories at every meal they shared. The Viscount, however, never made an appearance. The singing was never repeated, even as Geralt found himself listening for it.

On the night of the full moon, Geralt again joined the Viscountess for a night of one-sided conversation. But as he prepared to return to his room for his silver sword before nightfall, there was a change.

“Geralt?” Her voice sounded uncertain; it was the first time she’d called him by his first name only.

He turned to her, unsure how to respond.

“The Viscount and I wish you luck tonight.” Her expression was solemn, and Geralt nodded before leaving.

\-----

It was a werewolf. The oddness of castle was forgotten as Geralt saw it dragging an unconscious form into the woods from the town; he charged loud enough to make his presence known in order to distract it from the person it carried.

It worked; the werewolf dropped the person and turned fully toward Geralt; it raised its claws defensively, but Geralt’s reflexes were quicker. He managed to duck the claws headed for his face, then thrust up with his sword while crouching, stabbing the werewolf through the torso. His aim seemed to be true as it stilled above him, his sword piercing its heart. 

It fell as Geralt removed his sword; after pausing to ensure the strike was clean and it wasn’t moving, Geralt turned his attention to the unfortunate would-be victim.

The man was still breathing; he could hear that and his unsteady heartbeat. Carefully wiping and sheathing his sword, Geralt knelt by the man’s side. There was a slash, likely from the werewolf’s claws, through his neck, and it still bled sluggishly.

Geralt knew his current options were limited. He carefully picked the man up, heading to the healer in town, who thankfully knew to be prepared. She accepted the man from Geralt and began tending to him immediately.

It had been quick; Geralt returned to do a last check that the werewolf in the woods was indeed dead. He circled to ensure that there were no others that he could have missed; the death count hadn’t suggested a large group, but it was best to be cautious, and thorough. There’d be no more deaths if he could help it. 

Finally satisfied, he returned to the castle. It was quiet, as if most of its inhabitants had already retired for the night. Geralt assumed the questions would come tomorrow. He reached his room, ready to sleep. 

Waiting there for him was a bath, which smelled faintly of chamomile.

\-----

The next morning, Geralt recounted the tale to the Viscountess. Once he reached the end of the battle and his trip to the healer, she reached out and laid a hand over his. “Thank you.”

Slowly, he pulled his hand away, but disguised the motion as taking more food from the serving dish and moving it to his plate. “There was also a bath waiting for me when I returned.”

“Yes.” The Viscountess straightened in her seat, moving away from Geralt. “That was the Viscount’s idea.”

“Hmm.” Geralt shifted back in his seat. “Unfortunate I won’t be able to meet him before I leave.” His mental description of this man was very contradictory. If he seemed to hate witchers enough to never want to hear tales of them or encounter Geralt, why offer such luxuries? Was it truly him, or had the Viscountess just said so to make him look better? Perhaps it was alright that Geralt wouldn’t meet him. 

“You may be able to yet.” The Viscountess turned to Geralt once more. “We’ve decided to throw a feast in your honor tonight. Would you like to stay?”

“A feast in my honor?” The odd mix of hostility and…generosity was reaching uncomfortable new levels.

“To celebrate our newfound safety truly, but we wouldn’t have it without you.” She seemed earnest enough. “Additionally, I would like you to meet the Viscount.”

“Would he like to meet me?” It came out sharper than intended, but Geralt could not restrain himself.

“He will be there.” There was an odd gleam in the Viscountess’ eyes. “I will ensure it.”

There were many aspects of this situation that Geralt still distrusted, but this could provide the answers he needed. “You can count on my attendance as well.”

“Excellent.” Her expression conveyed excitement, but perhaps something more. “We’ll begin preparations.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who will finally make an appearance next chapter? Physically, at least...


	4. Take a good long look (at what you’ve done to me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, you continue to surpass my expectations with your response to this fic. You're all amazing and making my day (and evening, and night, and morning) over and over again.
> 
> But now, onto the fun part!

Geralt moved uncomfortably around the large hall where the feast was being held. It was a different space from where he’d been taking his meals with the Viscountess, and currently it was filled with people. Despite the fact that he was supposed to be the guest of honor, Geralt was staying around the edges of the room, not trying to draw attention to himself.

But as he was used to, he still attracted plenty. But it seemed largely positive; people came up to him and thanked him. It was…unusual. Perhaps Jaskier’s attempts at reforming his reputation, even if they presumably had largely ceased with Jaskier’s disappearance, had done good. The songs were still sung by others of course, which likely helped, but it wasn’t the same. Geralt wondered if he would ever see Jaskier again and properly thank him for all he’d done, or if he’d just get haunted by reminders of the bard like he had been lately.

Geralt needed to focus. He needed to pay attention to his surroundings; he couldn’t forget the odd things that had been happening here. Tonight could lead to more answers.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Viscountess Madeleine Pankratz and Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz!” The more significant guests had been announced at their entrance all night (except Geralt, who had glared at the crier before his name could be spoken), but this was the one that captured Geralt’s attention. He’d finally see the elusive Viscount; he wasn’t sure how he was part of the mysterious events happening, but it wouldn’t hurt to find out what he could.

The Viscountess stepped into the room first; she looked much as Geralt had first seen her, if with her style changed for the occasion. Her gray gown was more formal, and a cape hung from her shoulders. Her hair was fully up and decorated with jeweled hairpins, which glittered as she turned and extended a hand back to—

It couldn’t be. The man who stepped forward had his hair styled back in a way that looked wrong, and he had a beard, but otherwise…

It was Jaskier. But his demeanor was off; there was a stiffness to his expression and posture, a formality. He smiled as he took her hand, but it was restrained. It didn’t reach his eyes, which lacked the playful light to them Jaskier’s eyes had always seemed to hold. Their outfits matched as if coordinated, down to the capes. It was all wrong; sleek grays instead of the colorful outfits Geralt knew Jaskier favored. He’d made enough comments about Geralt’s monochromatic outfits for Geralt to know that.

Still, they moved together as if nothing was wrong, as if Geralt’s already slow heartbeat hadn’t frozen in his chest. They reached the high table and sat, signaling for everyone at the other tables to take their seats.

Geralt’s distraction was so intense that he didn’t notice the servant girl appear at his elbow.

“Mister Witcher?” Geralt turned to Francieska in surprise, but she seemed unfazed. “The Viscountess has invited you to join them at the high table.”

Normally it was something Geralt would refuse, but if it got him closer to Jaskier… “Lead the way.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off of Jaskier. What was he doing here? Why had he been avoiding Geralt? Was he safe here, or would he need Geralt’s help?

As he approached, he saw Jaskier glare at the Viscountess and have a quick whispered conversation, which he tried to hear but couldn’t over the background noise of all the other conversations. By the time he reached the table, the impassive expression was back on Jaskier’s face.

Geralt was led to a seat next to the Viscountess, who smiled at him politely. “Thank you for joining us, Geralt.”

He nodded in response, looking past her to where Jaskier was looking resolutely away from him. “Jaskier?”

The Viscountess looked between them, but Jaskier just turned to him with a polite but restrained smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I thought witchers were supposed to have impeccable hearing, and yet it seems you missed my introduction. My name is not Jaskier; it’s Julian Alfred Pankratz.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Were you truly not paying attention to the introductions?” He laughed, but it seemed as shallow as all the other expressions he was making, not like the laugh that Geralt had refused to admit he enjoyed, and now missed. “I’m the Viscount of Lettenhove. I belong here, unlike you.”

“Julian.” The Viscountess’ voice was quiet but sharp. “He’s a guest here, be polite.”

“Madeleine.” Jaskier looked away from him, and Geralt wasn’t sure if he missed it as Jaskier turned to the Viscountess instead. “He finished his work already; most people don’t throw feasts for witchers. They just allow them to leave.”

“I was thinking of staying longer actually.” Geralt tried to stay calm as both of them turned to him in surprise. “I want to make sure that everyone here is safe.” He looked at Jaskier, searching his face for any other clues as to what could be happening, to see if Jaskier understood him and the question he wasn’t asking.

“That hardly seems necessary.” Jaskier looked…angry? Pained? It was difficult to see, which was unnerving from someone who’d always been open with his emotions, perhaps overly so. “Unless you’ve failed to do your job properly.”

Picking up the tension between them, the Viscountess rested her hand over Jaskier’s, a movement that drew Geralt’s attention before he looked back to her face as she spoke. “We appreciate your concerns, truly. You are welcome to continue to stay here.”

“Madeleine.” Jaskier’s voice was sharp, and they looked at each other and seemed to be having a mental conversation; Geralt was almost envious of mages’ abilities to read minds.

Whatever was happening was interrupted by bard that had been hired for the night (and that too was odd; Jaskier loved performing and hated sharing the spotlight), who neared their table as he prepared to perform a new song. He strummed a few familiar notes, then began to sing. “When a humble bard—”

Jaskier’s head snapped forward. “Bard.” His tone was sharp in a way Geralt rarely remembered hearing.

The bard turned around, seeming a bit on edge. “Yes, sir?”

“What have I said about playing songs about the witcher at our court?” He kept his focus on the bard, not looking at Geralt, even as Geralt stared at him intently.

The bard glanced at Geralt then back to Jaskier. “I thought that perhaps because tonight we had Geralt of Rivia himself here, it may be appropriate—”

“He does not make the rules here, I do.” Jaskier’s hands were clenched into fists on the table. “And that rule has been established.” He leaned back in his chair, adopting a more relaxed expression. “Besides, I’m sure even he has grown tired of that song, if he ever enjoyed it to begin with.”

Geralt couldn’t understand what was happening; surely Jaskier knew Geralt appreciated what Jaskier and his music had done for him? “I don’t mind the song.”

Jaskier scoffed, finally looking at Geralt. “Hardly a raving review.”

“Bard,” the Viscountess smiled sweetly, “I’m sure you know many wonderful songs. Perhaps it would be best to avoid those for now.”

The bard looked around the high table, clearly detecting the tension there, before nodding at the Viscountess. “Very well. Of course.” He turned away, strumming his lute as if to clear it before launching into a different song and leaving the table.

“Julian.” The Viscountess said the name carefully. “I believe that was unnecessarily harsh.”

“He should create his own material, not just tell stories he knows nothing of.” Jaskier crossed his arms over his chest, pouting a moment before letting his arms fall to his side as he sat upright and made his expression neutral again.

Geralt watched him closely. “Would you like to speak to familiarity with those stories, Jaskier?”

“How many times must I tell you, witcher?” Jaskier’s expression was quickly a barely contained glare. “That bard is not here.”

Geralt looked at Jaskier closely, unsure how to respond. Before he could, the Viscountess brought her hands together with a small clap. “Gentlemen. I believe we’re attracting undue attention from the guests; perhaps we can have these conversations another time?”

There did seem to be a certain quiet in their corner of the room; Geralt had been so focused on Jaskier that it almost escaped his notice. But when he looked around the room, people looked away as if they had been staring and didn’t want to be caught.

“You may have whatever conversations you like.” Jaskier stood, pushing his chair back with a speed that bordered on harsh. “I’m going to retire to my quarters for the night; I may remain there until our guest has left.”

Geralt bristled. “Does my presence disturb you that much?”

“No.” Jaskier’s eyes were cold. “It’s simply that no one here needs you. We’ll give you the agreed pay for taking out the creature in the woods, but then you should seek out work elsewhere.” Without another word, he turned and left.

Geralt watched him leave, but tensed when he felt the Viscountess’ hand on his arm. “I apologize; he isn’t normally like this.”

“I’ve received worse treatment.” Geralt started after where Jaskier had left before moving to stand. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll retire for the night as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's wondering, yes, the Viscountess is named for Madeleine Hyland, other half of The Amazing Devil (and loosely physically based on her as well). As the tags say, TAD references are just gonna get tossed in as easter eggs here. 
> 
> Any new (or old) theories? I can promise vague responses in the comments...


	5. It’s my curse (to try to make it right, but by trying make it worse)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I know a lot of us (myself included honestly) use fic as an escape, but I gotta acknowledge what's going on right now. While the US isn't the only country with a racism problem, it's horrifying how integrated into our society it is, even to the extent of what increasingly seems like state-sanctioned lynching. The double standards between white mass murderers being arrested peacefully and black people being brutally murdered when not even doing anything wrong is too much for anyone to ignore. And if frustration from centuries of brutal mistreatment with rare meaningful change leads to less-than-peaceful protests, I think it's understandable. But if property damage bothers you more than actual human deaths, I think you should sit with that a bit and consider your priorities. We've gotta come together to make change happen; I know it seems impossible at times, but baby steps will still move us forward eventually. Take care of yourselves and each other, ok?
> 
> Anyways, back to a more comfortable sort of angst! Also we get a new POV partway through this chapter...

The feast had…unnerved Geralt, which was no easy task. Jaskier was here, so close to Geralt after so long, but so different. He’d shied away from any contact with Geralt and wouldn’t even say his name; it was like being in Geralt’s presence pained him. And he denied being Jaskier so strongly; there had to be something going on here. What if Jaskier had been cursed?

Who would have cursed him? The Viscountess would be the easy answer, given her closeness to Jaskier, but if she had why would she be so open with Geralt, even inviting him to stay? Was it a taunt? A challenge? 

He needed answers, now more than ever. Looking out the window to the room above his where he’d heard singing that first night, Geralt took in the rough stone of the castle. It looked climbable. If there was something suspicious, he wouldn’t want to alert the castle residents that he knew. He could rescue Jaskier then leave.

It didn’t take Geralt long before he was on the balcony to the room above, and from there to carefully open the door. He slipped inside quietly, but not silently.

“You can get into trouble for sneaking into a nobleman’s rooms like that.” The voice, flatter than he remembered but familiar, sounded from a desk to Geralt’s right.

Despite himself, Geralt smiled slightly. “You would know.”

There was a sigh. “What are you doing here, witcher?”

His tone was nearly unreadable, a disconcerting sensation from the person Geralt had traveled with for decades. “Jaskier—”

“No.” His voice was sharp. “Again, did you miss the introductions? My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz, and I’m the Viscount of Lettenhove.”

Geralt moved closer. “What’s going on, Jaskier? Are you in any danger?”

He scoffed. “Stop it. Stop with all of this.” He strode forward, the light from the fireplace illuminating his face. “The only danger to me is the man who just broke into my room.”

“I’m no danger to you, you know that.” Geralt bristled. “Are you alright, Jaskier?”

“Do you see a damn lute in my hand? I’m not your bard!” His voice raised, then he paused and took a deep breath. “I’m not Jaskier.”

“Then you must be a doppler, because you’re an exact match, minus the new style and the dead eyes.” Geralt moved closer, but stopped when Jaskier stepped back. “I can help you, dammit.”

“I’m not in need of saving, and I’m not your friend.” There was a slight crack in his expression. “As I understand, you never truly considered Jaskier a friend either.” He took a deep breath and the calm mask shifted back into place. “Jaskier is…he’s gone. He’s dead. I am Julian Alfred Pankratz, and this is my life.”

The notes of sorrow in his scent were back. Geralt stepped closer, more cautiously. “You’re wrong; Jaskier was always my friend, even if maybe I didn’t show it properly. But let me show you now; I want to know if you’re in danger so I can help you.” That got a flicker of expression, but it was gone quickly. Geralt grew more frustrated. “There’s something wrong here, I can tell. Were you cursed? What happened?”

“For the last time, nothing has happened that concerns you.” His scent soured with frustration, but his face was impassive. “What does your medallion tell you? Any foul magic about?”

It was still against his chest, but… “Only someone who knows a witcher well would know about that. Why are you insisting on acting like we’re strangers? Jaskier, I know it’s you, let me help you!”

“No.” He crossed his arms. “I don’t need you, and you don’t need me.” His expression cracked, just a little, enough to snarl. “Isn’t that what you always wanted? For no one to need you?” He schooled his features again, the impassive mask back. “You’ve done what was needed here, witcher, and you can leave. I’ll tell Madeleine you changed your mind, and you can be gone at first light.”

“I don’t think so.” Geralt planted his feet. “I’m not leaving here tomorrow.”

“Then at least leave my quarters before I call the guards. I’d rather not use force.” The calm mask was firmly in place.

Geralt nearly growled, frustrated. “We both know how that would end.”

“Maybe we do. Would you be playing butcher again?” His words were laced with venom.

Geralt recoiled, feeling the words like a physical blow. Jaskier knew how much that pained him; why would he say that? “This isn’t you.”

“This is.” He shifted uncomfortably, reacting to the tension in Geralt’s frame. “Now leave.”

“Fine.” Geralt backed toward the doors he’d came in. Something was wrong; he could tell. But he wouldn’t uncover anything new here; he needed to call for help.

\-----

Jaskier—Julian, he wasn’t Jaskier anymore—ran a hand down his face. Having a clean break with his old life sounded good at first, when he walked down a mountain alone and heartbroken. Geralt wanted Jaskier off his hands? Considered that the one blessing the world could grant him?

Then Jaskier would disappear from the world.

Julian glanced toward the chest at the foot of his bed, where he knew an eleven lute and his old clothes were packed tightly away. Sometimes, nostalgia got the better of him and he would take it out and play a bit, when it didn’t feel too painful to. His fingers twitched in the familiar patterns they would make on strings, but…

He’d been careless, forgotten how sharp witcher hearing could be. Geralt must have heard him that first night. That must be why he was so insistent that Jaskier would just drop everything and come with him.

Julian sat on the bed, cupping his head in his hands and scoffing at the audacity Geralt had. Showing up after two years, acting as if nothing was wrong, acting as if he actually cared about Jaskier, even saying they were friends as if he hadn’t always denied it…

As if Jaskier hadn’t given him his whole young adulthood and never even had his friendship acknowledged, let alone…

No.

As if Jaskier would just jump at the chance to be with Geralt again, as if nothing had happened, the way he’d always shrugged everything off before. Gods, he’d been a fool. A lovestruck idiot.

It’d be easier to get over those feelings if he didn’t have to see Geralt, still looking as beautiful as always, his face carved like a statue and his eyes and hair gleaming. And he did seem concerned. Despite his reputation Geralt was always so caring; maybe… 

But Geralt had already made his thoughts on Jaskier clear. His apparent concern now…he was probably just seeing if there was a curse because he was a witcher, and they dealt with the darker sides of magic. Like when Geralt helped the princess cursed into a striga in Temeria.

That was it; there was no real concern for Jaskier himself. Just professionalism.

Julian sighed. Was he being too harsh on Geralt? Maybe he should go visit him, if nothing else to convince him that there was no curse. Fighting himself, Julian stood and exited his room, taking the (internal) stairs down to where he knew Geralt’s quarters would be.

Why had Madeleine put Geralt so close? He’d need to talk to her…

He paused outside of Geralt’s quarters when he heard an odd sound; Julian waited, listening.

“Yennefer.” Geralt’s voice sounded relieved, and something twisted in Julian’s gut. “I’m glad you could get here so quickly.”

“I was surprised by your call, but it sounded urgent.” That was definitely Yennefer’s voice; Julian felt his heart break open once more despite himself.

“How are you and Ciri doing?” He paused in confusion at Geralt’s words, until it clicked. Princess Cirilla of Cintra, Geralt’s child surprise.

“We’re both doing well.” The sound of a gown sweeping across the floor; Yennefer must have been getting closer to Geralt. “Now I can see how riled up you are, Geralt; what do you need from me?”

Oh, no no no no no no. He scrambled away from the door as quickly as he could, not caring if he was quiet. He’d heard Yennefer helping Geralt with his _needs_ often enough, he did not need to hear it happening in his own home. If Geralt’s focus had shifted so quickly, clearly he wasn’t actually worried about Jask—Julian. 

That settled it. Julian entered his own room with new resolve; Geralt was still as callous as ever to him; the sooner he was out of his life the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discussion question for this chapter: do you think you'd know if you were cursed? I suppose it could depend on the magic at play, and if you (like Jaskier) had a tendency to be a bit of a dumbass at times. But do you think you'd be aware if you were under the influence of some magic?


	6. The mess that you left (when you told me I wasn’t right in the head)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! We're nearing the halfway point, and now it's time for our favorite sorceress (or mine, at least). Are you ready? We've got another peek into Jaskier's side of things this chapter...

Geralt turned to the door, sure he’d heard noise there a moment ago.

“Geralt?” Yennefer stepped closer. “What is it?”

“I thought I heard something.” He looked back to her; he must be truly distracted by what happened with Jaskier. “Something is wrong here.”

“That is typically why people call a witcher.” Yennefer sat down on the bed. “It’s not for your conversational skills.”

He ignored the comment. “I already took out the werewolf killing people in the woods. This is different.” He sighed, looking at her earnestly. “Jaskier is here.”

Yennefer sat up, her interest piqued. “Really? But no one has heard from Jaskier in years. Not since—”

“I know.” Even if they had reached a tentative friendship, the dragon hunt was a sore spot for them both still. “And he’s denying who he is. He claims to be the Viscount here, says his name is,” Geralt tried to avoid spitting it, “Julian Alfred Pankratz.”

“Well that was—is his given name, technically.” Yennefer said it casually.

“What?” Geralt couldn’t hide his surprise; how had he not known?

“Yes; it seemed like he avoided it generally, but I remember him using that name once or twice.” Yennefer rolled her shoulders, her relaxed state a contrast to Geralt’s barely contained energy. “And back when I was on the court in Aedirn, we occasionally got visits from nobles from the other kingdoms. As Redenia was near, we got nobles from there often enough. I do vaguely recall the Pankratzes of Lettenhove, although I never made that connection until now.”

Geralt had to stop himself from growling in frustration. “I still don’t trust this.” He looked at Yennefer. “He was so different; completely closed off and harsh. He completely denies being Jaskier or knowing me, yet keeps referencing conversations we’ve had.”

“You knew him better than I ever did.” Yennefer stood, crossing to Geralt. “But do you really think there’s no other explanation here?”

“I don’t know!” Geralt kept himself from shouting it, not wanting to draw undue attention from the castle staff. “But if he is cursed, enchanted, magically drugged, anything, I won’t leave without him.”

“And what if he’s just changed?” Yennefer stepped closer carefully. “It’s been two years, Geralt. Do you really think it’s impossible that he changed?”

“He wouldn’t change this drastically, Yen.” Geralt turned away, looking up to the room where he knew Jaskier was. The stone of the castle was too thick for him to hear through, but he wished he could. “He’d matured some during our time together, but this is a complete change.” He looked back at Yennefer. “He doesn’t even play music anymore, and hates to hear his old songs.”

“Perhaps he’s gained some musical sense then.” Yennefer merely laughed at Geralt’s glare, then sighed. “Really Geralt, think. Is there any reason why he would be more closed off, and why your presence and songs he wrote for you would seem to set him off, and that this all happened in the past two years?”

“Are you suggesting this has something to do with me?” Geralt eyed her carefully.

Yennefer sighed in a way that suggested she was moments from rolling her eyes. “I think it’s a possibility, at the very least, that you should consider.”

Geralt looked away. Jaskier had been repeating Geralt’s own words back to him all night, but Geralt had read that as Jaskier trying to signal to him something was wrong, maybe trying to work around some limitations placed by a curse… But could Yennefer be right? He looked at her, still not convinced. “Can you at least try to see if there’s any magic at play here? In case I missed something.”

“Alright.” Yennefer didn’t move from where she stood with her arms crossed, but she closed her eyes and he could feel the slight pulse as she extended her awareness, reaching out to see if she could sense anything. It continued for a moment, then she opened her eyes. “I don’t detect any present or lingering magic here. If it escaped both of us, it’s either powerful enough to cloak itself from everything, which would be horribly powerful and probably entirely unnecessary to enchant one human, or, and I do think this is more likely, there’s nothing here.”

Geralt eyed her cautiously. “But it’s possible there’s something here?”

“Geralt.” Yennefer groaned, rolling her eyes. “It’s highly unlikely. I think your answers lie elsewhere.”

“Hmm.” Geralt looked away, already considering how he should explore the castle the next day.

“Just…” Yennefer sighed. “Think about what I said, ok? Non-magical reasons for this?” Geralt’s noncommittal noise in response didn’t seem to satisfy her, but she leaned in to kiss his cheek regardless. “I’m going back to Ciri. I hope you don’t strain yourself too much here.” She opened a portal and was gone.

Geralt didn’t look to where she had left. He was too focused on Jaskier. He needed to find out what was going on here.

\-----

“Geralt thinks you’re cursed.”

“Melitele’s tits.” Julian jumped at the sudden appearance of a witch in his room. He turned to face her. “What are you doing here? Why is everyone breaking into my room tonight?”

Yennefer crossed her arms. “I just wanted to see for myself. And let you know that Geralt’s not going to let this go.”

“I know.” He scoffed. “That was the first break in of the night.”

She began to circle him, looking him over. “You really have changed.”

“It was intentional.” He crossed his arms, turning to face her. “Is there a point to all of this?”

“Geralt would be upset if I didn’t do my due diligence.” She stopped before him. “Suddenly dropping off the face of the Continent was a bit dramatic, even for you. That could be why he’s alarmed.”

“If you’d heard what was said, it wouldn’t seem sudden.” Julian scoffed. “Besides, not all of us need magic to undergo a transformation.”

“If you’d call this a transformation.” Yennefer eyed him up and down. “Some new styling and copying the dull attitude of everyone at court?”

“Just being what’s needed of me.” He mock toasted with the goblet of wine he’d taken on his way out of the feast and took a drink. “Understanding where I’m not wanted.”

“Are you understanding?” Yennefer squinted as she stepped closer and he tried not to flinch back; satisfaction flickered across her expression before she appeared disinterested again. “Geralt has been…different lately. More broody.”

“Really not my problem.” Julian considered if it would be worth it to get more wine or if he should just try to make this last.

“It will be; he won’t leave here until he’s satisfied, with or without you.” Yennefer stepped closer. “This is Geralt; the subtle approach may not be best.”

“I’ve known him much longer than you have.” Julian glared. “The prime years of my adult life, and they were wasted. I don’t need your advice.”

“The witcher still here downstairs would beg to differ.” Yennefer sighed. “I can’t believe I’m doing this for you two. Just, consider it.” With a flick of her wrist, a portal appeared and Yennefer stepped though, vanishing.

Julian looked down to his goblet, which looked fuller than it had been a moment ago, and chugged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's both fun and frustrating to write two really stubborn characters; it's a whole battle of wills, and then they're just being stupid. But so fun at the same time. But we'll see if Yennefer was able to get through to them soon enough....


	7. More to reach for (more to howl at the door)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy first day of Pride Month everyone! This month we commemorate rioting to push back against against police brutality towards a marginalized group, which I wish wasn't still relevant. But back to the escapism!
> 
> Shorter chapter this time...

The next day, Geralt searched the castle thoroughly again. The best place would be to search Jaskier’s quarters, but if he was there Geralt wasn’t sure if he’d have much success.

He watched Jaskier’s room from nearby, waiting for him to leave. He was so focused—distracted really—again that the servant girl, Francieska, crept up on him again. “What are you doing?”

Geralt tried to remain calm as he faced her; he’d never be able to return to Kaer Morhen if they knew how easily he was caught off guard here. “My job; I think there may be something wrong here. Magically.”

Francieska’s eyebrows went up. “Really?”

Geralt nodded, wondering if he could trust her to give him information. “Has there been anything unusual that you’ve noticed?”

“Not really.” She glanced down the hall. “Dreadfully quiet around here usually; I can see why the Viscount apparently left so long.”

That would fit with Jaskier. “Anything at all? Like when he returned?” She seemed young; Geralt wondered how long she’d been here, if she’d know enough.

She leaned in conspiratorially. “There’s a chest in his room he never lets anyone open. He’s so reclusive that I don’t know much, but after being away for years, rarely coming back, he just showed up about two years ago and has been here ever since.”

“Hmm.” That lined up with the timeline Geralt knew, but besides that bit about the chest in Jaskier’s room it didn’t seem like anything helpful here. “Anything else?”

Francieska shrugged. “It’s old news, but the only other thing odd here was that the last Viscount only promised the title to the first of his children to marry. Some think he was trying to lure his son back and make him stay for good.”

Could that be a curse? But if Jaskier was Viscount now… A wave of something Geralt didn’t want to identify flowed through him. There had to be something he was missing. He’d get Jaskier back. He turned to the servant girl. “You’ve been very helpful.” Now he needed to find Jaskier…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random fun fact: most chapter titles are accurate lyrics (with punctuation changed maybe), but this one is changed to how I misheard it before I looked up the lyrics because it felt kinda fitting. It's supposed to be "hurl at the door," but "howl" felt more appropriate for what's happening here, plus you know, White Wolf. Have people been making note of the lyrics in the chapter titles? Because they are intentionally chosen, if not in immediately obvious ways (some are more direct than others though)


	8. This here is not singing (I’m just screaming in tune)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! We're getting close; over the halfway point now! Ready for another conversation (or attempt at one) between Geralt and Jaskier?

It was in the castle gardens where he saw Jaskier again. At his approach, Jaskier stood from the bench he’d been sitting on to read. “What, are you tracking me?”

“No.” Geralt stepped closer, cautious. “I’m just trying to figure out if you’re alright, if you’re safe here.” He considered asking about the marriage stipulation for inheriting the title; would Jaskier have followed that? It would be another unusual thing for him since his love only ever seemed to last weeks at most. “Are you safe? Unharmed?” 

“I’m safer here than I ever was with you.” He crossed his arms. “Didn’t you always warn me it was too dangerous to stick around?”

“And you always said you trusted me to protect you, and meant it.” Geralt moved closer. “It could be that way again.”

“No.” Jaskier—Julian—whatever he wanted to be called, stood and tucked his book under his arm. “It can’t. This,” he pointed emphatically at the ground, “is my home now, as it had been before. I’m not some youth overeager for adventures anymore.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes. “You never seemed to tire of it before. What changed?”

“I did!” His voice raised, and after a moment he seemed to calm; his voice went soft again. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Me off of your hands?”

“Jaskier, if this is about what I said on the mountain,” Geralt paused, unsure what to say, “I was angry. It was…unwarranted.”

“But did you mean it?” A bit of vulnerability crept into blue eyes, below the bitterness.

“Not really.” Geralt considered reaching for Jaskier, but stopped himself. “I need my space sometimes, but…not forever. Not like this. Join me again; it can be like before.”

There was a glimmer of something on Jaskier’s face, before it closed off. “No, it can’t.” His eyes were hard when they met Geralt’s. “It can’t be the same, and do you want to know why?”

Geralt nodded, unsure if he should speak.

“I can’t trust you anymore, not with the blind faith of before.” He sat back down on the bench, looking away from Geralt. “I thought you would never hurt me, but you did. You shoved me aside like it—like I—was nothing.” He looked up at Geralt. “Perhaps that was the final push I needed to grow up. I didn’t want to travel anymore.” He scoffed. “Farewell wanderlust.”

“Can’t trust be rebuilt?” Geralt moved closer, slowly so he wouldn’t startle him.

When Jaskier looked up, his eyes were sad. “Not like this, Geralt. Not when you somehow still don’t understand why it broke.”

Geralt stepped closer, kneeling on the ground so their faces were more level. “Then tell me.”

“I can’t give you all the answers; I can’t change you if you don’t want to change.” Jaskier stood up. “And I don’t think you actually do; I heard you calling Yennefer last night to help with your ‘needs’.” The word had a peculiar inflection, but Geralt didn’t have time to figure it out before Jaskier continued, his voice taking on a new edge. “In my own house, so close to me too. Trust can’t be rebuilt if it’s always getting broken anew.”

“You still talk like a poet instead of speaking clearly.” Geralt stood, feeling frustrated again. “And what does Yennefer have to do with this? She was just helping me.”

“I don’t need details, Geralt. I was there for her ‘helping’ you enough times.” He turned and walked away. “Goodbye, Geralt.”

He walked away, leaving Geralt only more confused.

Some of what Jaskier said supported the curse idea; he spoke as if he was trapped here, somehow, like he’d lost a part of himself. But it still felt like Geralt was missing something…

But Geralt knew where he could get answers. He turned back to the castle, heading for the Viscountess’ study.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we go back to her, what are people's thoughts on the Viscountess? There's been a bit of theorizing in the comments, but I'm curious what the rest of you think...


	9. The cupid of things that you just didn’t get (that you struggled to say)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I know it may seem like Geralt's being especially dense, but combine decades of people telling you that you have no emotions leading to low emotional intelligence with a general low sense of self-worth and you might just get this particular brand of oblivious. But don't worry, he'll get there! We're real close now....

Geralt knew he shouldn’t just barge into the room, but if she was somehow manipulating or harming Jaskier…

The door slammed open before him, Francieska following after him with frantic eyes. “I tried to stop him, but—”

“There’s no realistic way you could have, but I do appreciate the effort.” The Viscountess looked up from what she was writing with a small smile. “Leave us, and close the door on the way out.” She turned to Geralt. “This is probably a long overdue conversation.”

Francieska looked nervously between them, but nodded and left, closing the door.

The Viscountess raised an eyebrow, showing a noticeable lack of fear. “Well?”

This was not going how Geralt expected, but he had to find the truth. “What did you do to Jaskier?”

“What did I do?” She sat back, looking amused. “This one’s more on you.” She paused. “And a bit of his own doing, but I’m curious to hear what you have to say.”

“I know about the stipulations on inheriting the title.” Geralt stayed standing, not taking his eyes off of her. “That the last Viscount tied the title to marriage to get Jaskier to return and stop traveling the Continent. And he has; acting horribly different than I’ve ever known him, and I’ve known him for over twenty years.” Geralt stepped closer, resting his hands over the desk and leaning over her. “So what did you do to Jaskier? Put some curse on him, enchant him into marriage somehow?”

She snorted. “Julian getting married would lose me the title, not gain it.” The Viscountess paused, looking at Geralt oddly. “He’s my brother.” Her point made, she leaned back in her chair again. “You really do have a blind spot when it comes to him, huh?”

Geralt backed off, crossing his arms. That did…make sense in some ways. Why something about her seemed familiar, why she didn’t seem afraid of him. He’d been seeing Jaskier in the blue of her eyes and the texture and color of her hair; there was something in the face too... “If it’s not magic, what is it?”

She sighed. “Have you asked him?”

“He denied being cursed.” Deciding that there wasn’t enough threat here to need to be alert, Geralt sat in the chair across the desk from her. “He accused me of hurting him, breaking his trust. But I would never do that.”

“Not consciously, at least.” The Viscountess leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk then her head on her hands. “My older brother told me stories of you often, even if it seems he didn’t return the favor. The times he’d come back, when he wasn’t busy at Oxenfurt or with you, he spoke highly of you. He falls in love easily, as I’m sure you know,” she paused, waiting for Geralt’s grunt of acknowledgement, “but I’d never seen his eyes light up the way they did when he talked about you.”

Geralt’s eyes snapped up to her, then narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t believe the great White Wolf is as dense as my brother made him out to be; you’re quite the matched set.” She leaned back with a sigh. “You really shouldn’t have to hear this from me.” The Viscountess leveled Geralt with a serious look. “But you need to hear this. Julian—Jaskier was always much like you knew him. Happy, lively, always singing, flirting, enjoying everything he could. But then two years ago, something changed.” The Viscountess watched Geralt carefully. “He came here, and he looked gutted. Barely left his room. I haven’t seen him play in two years, but I hear the melodies echo through the castle at night sometimes. Haunting, heartbroken things.” Her expression turned sharp. “Music had been the only part of his ‘nobleman’s education’ that our parents put us through that he seemed to really enjoy; it was his first real love, and the most enduring one. He always had some instrument or another on him growing up. It was like it was just an extension of him. He loved performing: the singing, the playing, the crowds.”

That…did sound like Jaskier. Geralt didn’t dare to move in his chair. “So what happened?”

Her smile was bittersweet. “You’ll have to fill in the gaps for while he was gone; he hasn’t told me everything.” The Viscountess looked serious again. “But if I had to guess, knowing my brother? He found something—someone—that he loved more than even music. And then he tied the two together. So when his heart broke, he lost both. Every song, every trace of his own talents, was just a painful reminder of his lost love.”

Geralt could feel the realization, but it didn’t feel real. Jaskier, loving him? Geralt wasn't worthy of something so pure, so bright. He needed confirmation. “And who or what do you think broke his heart?”

Her smile was soft, but her eyes were pained. “Who were his songs about? The songs it pains him too much to hear now?”

Geralt felt the ache he’d experienced when he found himself alone on the mountain, but magnified. Guilt. Loneliness. Was this heartache? Was this pain what Jaskier had felt? “I did this.” He looked away, unable to meet those not-quite-right but too-familiar blue eyes. “I broke his heart, I hurt him when he thought I never would. When he trusted me not to.”

He’d folded in on himself so much that the sympathetic hand squeezing his shoulder was a surprise. “I think it’s time for you to have another conversation.” The Viscountess’ eyes were soft. “He may be as dramatic in his sorrow as he is in everything else, but cutting off his old life like this…I do think he misses it. Misses you. I wish you luck.”

“Thank you.” The words came out softly, and Geralt turned and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready for Geralt and Jaskier to have another talk?


	10. So long (to the person you begged me to be)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you Geralt would get to that revelation eventually! Now to see what he does with it... But first, shoutout to all the awesome people reading and engaging with this story! You all make my day!

Geralt spent the rest of the afternoon thinking how he should approach the situation. He wasn’t sure how to talk to Jaskier, what to say. But he knew he needed to say something.

He skipped dinner with the Viscountess that night. They’d had the conversation they needed to have.

Geralt wasn’t sure how he knew where to find Jaskier. But he let himself walk and trust that he would end up where he needed to be. And then hopefully he could say what he needed to say.

He found Jaskier in the stables, gently holding Roach’s head and resting his forehead against her. Geralt stood there a moment, looking. Jaskier looked…softer. Than before. Like he was letting all the new walls he’d put up and all the tension he’d been carrying go, if only for a little while.

Geralt must have made some kind of noise, because Jaskier turned his head. He didn’t look surprised, and didn’t let go of Roach, but some of the tension in his shoulders returned. “Don’t worry, I’m not hurting her.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” Geralt stepped closer, cautious. “I trust you.”

“Hmm.” Jaskier finally let go of Roach, turning to face Geralt more fully, his expression guarded, though not as much as before. “Not enough to believe me when I say I’m not cursed though?”

“I do, now.” Geralt’s hands clenched and unclenched by his sides. “I think I was just…worried. Surprised. And overlooking the obvious explanation.”

Jaskier scoffed. “Yeah, cuz if I greeted you with anything less than a smile and endless chatter it must have meant something was wrong.”

“It did before.” Geralt tried to stay calm as Jaskier looked at him with a bit of surprise. “You were never quiet unless something was bothering you, or you were hurt.”

Jaskier’s expression hardened. “Or if you told me to shut up enough times.”

“That never seemed to stop you.” Geralt smiled softly, but Jaskier’s expression didn’t change. “But maybe I was too harsh, with my words. On the mountain and before. I don’t enjoy silence like I used to. Chatter was a bit much at times, but…it meant you were alright.” 

Jaskier looked away. “Never thought I’d hear you say you missed it.”

“I do.” Geralt moved closer, now nearer to Jaskier than the door. “I miss you too.”

“It’s not that easy.” Jaskier sighed. “Gods, some part of me misses you too, but…” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up from where it had been perfectly styled back. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know.” Geralt tried to stay steady, reassuring as Jaskier’s eyes snapped to him. “I had a conversation with your sister. It was…illuminating.”

“Ah.” Jaskier looked away. “Not sure if I should thank her for that or not.”

“I did.” Jaskier’s eyes snapped to Geralt, then away again. “Why did you never tell me?”

“Really?” Jaskier smiled widely, but it was bitter and didn’t reach his eyes. “Geralt, we had our moments, we both know that, but…” He looked away. “Ten years in and you deny that we’re friends, fifteen in and you jokingly say you don’t care after I nearly died.” He looked up, eyes serious. “I was ok with it, I was. I cherished every little way you suggested you did actually care, even if your words contradicted them. I figured something, anything, was better than nothing. But then twenty years in, and the man I love—loved—tells me he’d rather have nothing, and certainly seems to mean that.” Jaskier looked away. “So nothing I became. No more Jaskier.”

“I didn’t mean it. I was angry, and lashed out when I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have taken out my frustration on you.” Geralt took a small step closer. “I am sorry; if you take away nothing else, let it be that.”

Jaskier still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Thank you, I suppose. I wish it changed anything.”

“Why can’t it?” Geralt couldn’t keep the frustration out of his voice. “Why are you so determined to stay here?”

“Because I have nothing else.” Jaskier’s voice was sharp again, and when he finally looked back at Geralt there was fire in eyes despite their wetness. “All of my adult life got tied into you; I can’t play without people requesting witcher songs, I can’t go back to Oxenfurt without people asking when I’ll be leaving for my summer travels with that knowing look in their eyes.” Jaskier looked away. “This was all I had left that was untouched, and now here you are.”

“But are you happy here?” Geralt moved slightly closer again; Jaskier was nearly within arm’s reach. “Truly?”

“Would I be happier anywhere else?” Jaskier looked back at him, throwing his arms up helplessly. “I think this is the least miserable I can be.”

“You shouldn’t have to settle for that.” Geralt paused, wanting so badly to reach out. “You could still leave, reinvent yourself again. Travel again.”

“And risk seeing you again? You, happy with your little family of Yennefer and your Child Surprise?” Jaskier laughed hollowly. “No thank you.”

“Yennefer and I…” It was a difficult explanation. “We aren’t together anymore. Not like we were. She still helps with Ciri, and I trust her, but…” He looked up into blue eyes that had a spark of interest now, almost reminiscent of their old light. “She wasn’t who I missed most after the mountain.”

“Don’t toy with me, Geralt. I remember who you always chose when you had the chance, and it wasn’t me.” Jaskier’s expression was guarded, on the brink of something. “I don’t know if I can go through that again.”

“You wouldn’t have to.” Geralt took another small step closer, the space between them shrinking but so uncrossable nonetheless. “I know better now than I did before. Jaskier, I…” Geralt wasn’t sure what words would fit. Jaskier had always been better with words than him. He looked at him, hoping he could convey everything through a look but knowing it wasn’t enough. “What can I do to prove myself to you?”

“I don’t know.” Jaskier seemed almost as frustrated as Geralt was. “This isn’t some small thing, Geralt. You stole the best years of my life.”

“We can make more. Even better ones.” Another step, and there was only a hand’s distance between them now. “It doesn’t have to be all at once. Just come with me, give me the chance to try. I want you to be happy, Jaskier, with or without me. If you’d be happy here with never seeing me again, then I’ll leave and never return. But if there’s the slightest chance you could be happy with me, I want to take it.”

“Gods, Geralt,” Jaskier looked away from his eyes, resting a hand on Geralt’s chest, over his heart. “It hurts so much.”

“I can’t claim to understand.” Geralt covered Jaskier’s hand with one of his own. “But I want to. I want to help pull you back together, even if it takes years.”

“But what would we be?” The walls put up by pain were falling, there was openness in Jaskier’s eyes, and hurt. “Travel companions? Friends? Something else?” Something like desperation crept into his tone. “Something more?”

Geralt squeezed Jaskier’s hand, still on his chest. “However you’d like to have me, I’m yours.”

“Oh, Geralt.” Jaskier’s free hand came up to his face, then flinched away. “But do you really want me? Or are you just trying to bring me back to you?”

Maybe words weren’t enough. Although he wanted to just grab Jaskier and go for it, Geralt’s hand was gentle when he cupped Jaskier’s jaw, the other hand still together with Jaskier’s on his chest as he leaned in and pressed their lips together gently, but with everything he couldn’t put into words. After what felt like too long and too short, he pulled away. “Does that answer your question?”

Instead of answering, Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s face with both hands and pulled them together, crashing their lips into each other with an intensity Geralt had never felt before. But while it started like that, it deepened into something softer but no less intense, until Jaskier pulled away panting. “I have wanted to do that since I saw you at that tavern in Posada.”

Geralt’s eyebrows rose, the gentle movement of his fingers on Jaskier’s neck mirroring how Jaskier’s thumbs rubbed over his cheeks. “That long?”

“Well it was lust more than anything at that point.” Jaskier’s smile finally reached his eyes, and it was genuine and warm in a way that caused a surge of relief and answering warmth in Geralt’s chest. “The rest came after. Slowly but surely, then all at once when I saw how incredible you are. How kind and caring, how just. How…everything.”

“It took me longer than it should have; not until I lost you.” Geralt’s hand’s tightened slightly from where they now rested on Jaskier’s shoulders, as if he would slip away and disappear again. “But your brightness, your caring, your spark, your sound…The last two years have been empty without it. Without you.” He looked at Jaskier earnestly. “Will you come with me?”

Jaskier looked at him, blue eyes searching. He must have been satisfied with what he found, because his thumbs stroked Geralt’s cheeks once more and he smiled. “Yes. I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How we feeling now? Also, bonus points for whoever spots The Amazing Devil lyrics easter egg in this chapter (not from Farewell Wanderlust this time)


	11. Think about him (my wings start to flap)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! It seems more of you keep finding this, which is awesome. I know I've said it before, but all the response to this really does make my day! 
> 
> Now, let's check in on Jaskier...

Jaskier wandered back to his rooms in near a daze. He’d almost invited Geralt back with him, but…Despite everything, it felt like it would be too soon. They would have time now, Jaskier was sure of it. Til the end of his life, if Geralt would have him. However long that may be, and hopefully it'd be a long time, he'd spend by his witcher's side.

Jaskier finally arrived in his rooms, feeling something he hadn’t in a long time. He wandered to the chest at the foot of his bed where he'd stashed away all traces of his old life. A part of him had wanted to burn it all after he arrived here, truly destroy everything to match how destroyed he’d felt. Remove any trace of Jaskier and fully become Julian instead.

But now, he was glad he hadn’t. Slowly, almost reverently, Jaskier pulled the lute case out from where it rested among all of the colorful things he used to wear. He opened the lute case carefully, and pulled the lute out.

His hands seemed to remember how to check her over on their own; his eyes and ears aiding the inspection and tuning while his mind still soared through the clouds with his heart. 

Satisfied, Jaskier walked over to the balcony and opened the doors; Geralt wouldn’t be able to hear if he was just in his room, but like this, playing all his newfound and renewed feelings into the night…

He was a little out of practice, but the melody flowed easily enough. Jaskier didn’t have words for it, not yet. It wasn’t quite happy, but it was…hopeful. And that was enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost left this tacked on to the last chapter, but tbh that moment deserved to have it's own time in the spotlight. I hope you all enjoyed this little snippet of Jaskier!


	12. I promise you (I’m not broken)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Second to last chapter, are you ready? It's basically fluff from here on out because that's the kind of person I am (a sap). I hope you all enjoy; I think this is the longest chapter yet!

The next morning, they were both at the breakfast table with the Viscountess. Jaskier had shaved off the beard, and his hair was little more in his old style, even if he still wore the drab gray robes.

Geralt couldn’t help but smile just a little despite himself. It was only the three of them today, besides the servants who mostly just placed the food and left without a word. 

The Viscountess looked between them, clearly noticing the change. Her eyes settled on Geralt. “I take it our talk was helpful then?”

“Yes.” Geralt allowed himself to smile softly again.

“Although I still can’t believe you just broke my confidence like that.” Jaskier rolled his eyes and took a drink. “Really, Madeleine.”

“I didn’t explicitly tell him.” She shrugged. “I just sortof…dropped hints and let him figure it out.” The Viscountess took a drink herself and looked at Jaskier. “He may be less dense than you let on, if only a little.”

“As you said, I had a…blind spot.” Geralt was looking at Jaskier, who looked satisfied.

“Funny, considering how much time you spend looking at him.” The Viscountess snorted.

“Madeleine.” Jaskier slapped her arm; how had Geralt missed that they were siblings?

She raised an eyebrow. “Julian.” She paused, looking between the two of them in an almost calculating way, but without any malice. “Or is it Jaskier again?”

His answering smile was soft. “It might just be Jaskier again.”

“Good.” They both looked to Geralt as he spoke. “Now you just need to look like it again.”

“Hey.” Jaskier let mock offense cross his expression. “I shaved my beard already, and started to change my hair back.”

“Back to looking like you’re fresh from Oxenfurt.” The Viscountess smiled and reached out to ruffle his hair. “I hope to age at least half as well as you do.”

“Both of us have nothing on Geralt.” When Jaskier looked at Geralt, the playful look in his eyes was finally back. “Tell us Geralt, have you passed a century yet?”

“Yes.” Geralt felt one corner of his mouth tick up at the Viscountess’ shocked expression. “Not by much though.”

“And yet you still know nothing of fashion.” Jaskier shook his head, smiling.

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Says the man wearing gray after spending two decades criticizing me for not wearing color.”

“Oh, so you learned something after all.” Geralt hadn’t realized how much he missed Jaskier’s teasing until he had it back. “Still, I refuse fashion advice from someone who only wears armor.”

“I need to wear armor.” Geralt hoped Jaskier was hearing the teasing in his own voice in return. “It’s for my job.”

“And this,” Jaskier gestured at his current outfit, “is for mine.” He sighed and took a sip of his drink. “Really Madeleine, our family colors are so dull. Who decided on gray however many generations back?”

“Technically silver I think, but we don’t exactly have the fortune that would be required to make everything from that.” She snorted. “I doubt anyone does.”

“It would look so much better though.” Jaskier tipped his head into his hand, getting the faraway look he got when daydreaming or composing. “Can you imagine?”

“This would become the best defended keep outside of Kaer Morhen in winter when it came to monsters.” Geralt took a sip of his own drink as both of them looked to him.

Jaskier snorted. “Witcher priorities.”

The Viscountess looked thoughtful. “It does make you wonder why use of silver never became more common though.” She looked to Geralt. “If it’s so useful.”

“Because most people fear monsters too much to get close to them.” Geralt allowed his expression to grow more serious. “Or to fight when they are there.”

“Not me.” Jaskier smirked.

“It’s true.” Geralt looked to the Viscountess, his expression mostly serious but allowing a smile at the end. “Your brother has little to no sense of danger, or self-preservation.”

“Maybe.” She smiled conspiratorially. “My thought was that it just always gets overridden easily.”

“Hey.” Jaskier pouted. “I never should have let you two interact on your own. You’re teaming up on me.” He stopped pouting, a hint of a smile coming back. “Besides Geralt, you should be grateful. If danger scared me, I would have left after Posada instead of following you for twenty-two years.”

“If you were scared of danger, it would make me a lot less stressed.” Geralt allowed himself to smile again. “But I suppose I should be grateful for what has kept you by my side.”

“So are you leaving then?” The Viscountess looked between them, settling on Jaskier. “Going back on the road with him?”

“Yes.” Jaskier made an exaggerated expression. “I know you will miss me terribly—”

“Miss the moping? Never.” She smiled, and there was something of Jaskier in it. “But I know you’ll be happier out there; you always were.”

“Thank you.” Jaskier smiled, soft and genuine. “But I will be leaving you with all the responsibility—”

“Which I’ve been handling, and was always more interested in than you were anyways.” The Viscountess looked at Geralt conspiratorially. “I really don’t know what was going on with our father, thinking this one would be taking over.”

“Well, Viscountess, it seems you got all the sense in the family.” Geralt hid his smirk by taking a sip of his drink.

Jaskier sputtered indignantly, but the Viscountess just laughed. “Please, call me Madeleine. If you and my brother are…whatever you two are now, that makes us family, and family shouldn’t use titles.”

“Whatever we are indeed.” Jaskier was watching Geralt closely; maybe they should have had that conversation last night…

“What we are is…” Geralt looked away. “Jaskier was the first person to show me genuine kindness with no ulterior motive in a very long time. I foolishly drove him away, but I won’t be making that mistake again. We’re staying together now.”

A hand with faded callouses covering his drew Geralt’s attention to Jaskier, who looked at him with a wide-eyed, soft smile. “I was just teasing, but that was beautiful.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Geralt’s cheek before pulling back with a grin. “You are absolutely not getting rid of me this time. Ever.”

Geralt shifted his hand so that their fingers interlaced. “Good.”

“This went so much better than I imagined.” They both turned to the Viscountess—Madeleine resting her head on her hand, smiling softly.

“What?” Jaskier whipped around, staring at his sister. “Madeleine, why do you make it sound like you—like you planned this, somehow?”

“I kindof did.” She sat up again, no shame in her expression. “I mean obviously not the werewolf bit, that was horrible. But when we called for a witcher, I hoped it would be him.” She looked at Geralt. “Once it was indeed you that arrived, I decided to get to know you, find out about the man who broke my brother’s heart and not just the legendary witcher. When I saw you seemed to be missing him too, I may have tried to push you two towards each other. Having you stay in the same wing of the castle, for example. But this one,” she glared at Jaskier, “was too busy being reclusive and moping.”

Jaskier crossed his arms. “Oh, how was I supposed to respond, considering the last time I’d seen him? How would you respond if wandering the courtyard was—”

“Anyways.” Whether she was trying to prevent him from naming someone or just picking up on the tension in Geralt’s shoulders at the mention of the last time they’d seen each other, Geralt was grateful for the diversion. “When the subtle approach didn’t work, I decided to throw the banquet. I knew it wasn’t normal for this kind of thing, but I had to force you two to interact somehow.” She rolled her eyes, but it was fond. “I simply could not deal with any more of your moping, Jaskier.”

“And they say I’m the dramatic one.” Jaskier smiled.

“You are.” Madeleine calmly sipped her drink, ignoring Jaskier gasping and pressing a hand to his chest.

“It suits you.” Geralt looked away as they both turned to him. “Better than quiet does.”

“Aww.” Jaskier’s hand found Geralt’s again. “Makes me a good bard too.” Geralt looked up as Jaskier sighed dreamily. “What has the Continent been doing without me, with only lackluster imposters to sing my tales?” He sat upright in his seat. “I’ll need to find a suitable venue for my grand reappearance. Somewhere worthy…”

“Would being the first bard at Kaer Morhen suffice?” Geralt almost looked away at how those blue eyes softened, perhaps a hint of love showing through. “It wouldn’t be the grandest hall or the largest, or perhaps the most appreciative, audience, but I’d like to take you there. I’d like you to meet Ciri.”

“Oh, Geralt.” Jaskier leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips and continuing to cup his face after he pulled back, thumbs rubbing over Geralt’s cheeks. “I would be honored, dearheart.” Without removing his hands, he looked over his shoulder at Madeleine. “How soon can I leave here?”

She smiled. “No more than a day, probably. A few formalities, then you can be off.” She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Promise me you’ll visit this time though? I swear I won’t try to spring any arranged marriages on you like father did, and I’d rather hear your stories from you than from someone else singing your songs.”

Geralt had some questions about that, but Jaskier just laughed. “I’ll be back. And I’ll put on the good kind of show this time, I swear.” He turned back, looking at Geralt softly. “Maybe I’ll even bring company.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to the one person in the comments who absolutely called what was going on with the Viscountess (not sure if you'd want to be namedropped here) a few chapters before the big reveal. There are probably more of you that got it but did not comment, and props to you too. What can I say, I love fluff and dramatic irony.


	13. I promise you (there’s more)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have reached the conclusion of our story! It's been fun sharing this with all of you seeing all of you reading and engaging with this; you're all the best! A touch of angst found it's way into this little epilogue, but I hope you enjoy!

The next day, they walked out of Lettenhove together. Jaskier was dressed in a colorful doublet with trousers to match, and his chemise (and through it, some chest hair) was showing. It was familiar, good.

Geralt looked down from atop Roach; Jaskier was being quiet, but not in the painful way of before. He just seemed…thoughtful. Geralt bumped Jaskier’s shoulder with his foot. “Are you alright?”

Jaskier’s hands tightened on the strap for his lute case; he had it slung over his back instead of playing the lute itself. “I’m fine.” Jaskier sighed. “I just…some part of me thought this would never happen again, you know? Let alone that you’d actually…want me.”

“I do.” Geralt mentally cursed his past self again. “I was worried, when you disappeared. When suddenly no one on the Continent had heard of Jaskier after the mountain. And when I found you and you said Jaskier was dead...” Geralt looked away. “I’m glad it was just exaggeration.”

There was a long pause as Jaskier bit his lip and wouldn’t look at him. “It was and it wasn’t, I suppose. I mean, physically speaking, I’m here. I didn’t die in that sense. But on another level…” He trailed off, looking to Geralt finally. “I haven’t performed since once after the mountain, haven’t written or composed anything worthwhile in nearly as long.” He looked back to where his hands were fiddling with the strap over his chest again. “They say heartbreak is good inspiration, but I got nearly nothing but pain from it.”

It was quiet for a moment, just their footsteps and the sounds of the forest they walked through. It was the heavy, uncomfortable silence again, and Geralt itched to make it go away. But what could he do to fix the past? Nothing. But perhaps he could focus on something from that in the present… Finally, Geralt spoke. “Maybe you need the right kind of inspiration to restart your writing again. Tales from a witcher perhaps.”

Jaskier looked up with a hint of a smile. “You do have two years of stories to catch me up on. Sparing no detail, of course."

"Of course.” Geralt felt himself smiling softly. It felt as if his face ached from smiling, like he’d been doing it more lately than he ever had before, but perhaps he owed Jaskier this. He deserved to see how he made Geralt feel. “Should I start with the tale of a werewolf, and how it tied to a mystery of a reclusive nobleman?”

The wonderful light in Jaskier’s eyes was back, and Geralt felt an answering warmth in his chest. “Love stories do make for great ballads, although I may embellish the rescue.” He smiled at Geralt’s long-suffering look. “C’mon, anything to distract me from the fact that my legs are not in traveling shape anymore.”

Geralt slowed Roach. “Should we stop?”

“No, it’ll be the good kind of ache.” Jaskier waved him off. “Better than heartache. Of course we’ll have to work on getting me to the other fun kind of sore.”

“Hmm.” Geralt rolled his eyes, but did consider what inns would be along the road soon.

“And my legs will look fantastic soon enough; all that walking had me in great shape.” Jaskier sighed wistfully. “I’ll get it back.” He looked at Geralt. “Just you wait. You’re gonna see what you were missing all these years.”

“I look forward to it.” Geralt allowed another smile; it couldn’t hurt when they were alone. “But for now, on to Kaer Morhen.”

Jaskier’s answering smile was brilliant. “And to wherever we please with coin after that; I think my wanderlust is growing back.”

“Good.” Geralt looked down with one last smile as Jaskier finally brought his lute out, starting to strum and hum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this! And if you did (shameless self-promo time) I do have other witcher stuff coming up; my next one is a Yenneskier to Geraskifer fic that I've enjoyed writing but have struggled to name, so that should be up next week sometime pending me actually coming up with a title. Anyways, thanks for reading everybody, stay safe and sane!

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you may be able to guess where this is going, but I hope you'll stick around for the ride! It's gonna be fun.
> 
> Also, I'm gonna recommend The Amazing Devil again. You can buy their music on [bandcamp](https://theamazingdevil.bandcamp.com/) or listen to it on streaming services like spotify. They're so good; check them out if you haven't!


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